My name is Oliver Queen, after pirates attacked-
by Easnadh
Summary: So this is a pirates AU. I originally started it as part of the Olicity Hiatus Project AU Fic challenge, but then I got attached to the idea so I'm going to continue it. I'd explain the setup, but I think it's more fun to pick it up as you read. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

The ship was getting closer. From his vantage point atop the cliff, Oliver watched it approach with narrowed eyes. Its colours were unfamiliar to him and it flew no national flag or royal crest. His jaw clenched. It definitely wasn't a navy ship, not of any country he knew, and he had trouble believing it was a merchant vessel. For one thing it was headed directly for Lian Yu, and Oliver had been stranded here long enough to know that the island wasn't exactly an international trading hub.

He stayed hidden, crouched behind a clump of bushes, his hand tightening reflexively on his crudely made bow. Since he'd been stranded here over a year ago he had learned not to trust strangers too easily and, no matter how much he wanted to run down to the beach and wave his arms at the approaching ship, experience had taught him caution. Besides, there was a very small, but very real chance they might be pirates.

His expression soured at the thought. Pirates were the reason he was here in the first place. It was pirates who had attacked his father's galleon, pirates who had… He stopped, shutting down the tide of images that were already beginning to surface. There was no point in revisiting bad memories, and now was definitely not the time to get lost in dreams of retribution and revenge. Beneath him one of the ship's boats was already halfway towards the beach, the larger vessel anchored further out in the calm bay. The occupants of the boat were too far away to make out clearly, but he could tell there were about ten of them. It was time to move.

Oliver crept back from the cliff's edge, keeping low, and then edged back into the trees. Once he was safely hidden in the jungle he began moving faster, racing along well-worn paths towards his camp. He reached it in minutes, a small cave nestled into the base of the cliffs, the entrance hidden from view by clumps of thick vegetation. It had been his home for most of his time on the island.

Knowing he had no time to waste Oliver didn't hesitate, grabbing his spare arrows and the few small daggers he had managed to purloin or fashion during his time on the island. Looking around the tiny cave he could see nothing else he wanted to take with him. There was nothing about the past year that he wanted to remember, nothing that could invoke fond memories. Not that that mattered. This was not and never had been his life. The life of Oliver Queen lay back home, in Port Starling, managing the Queen family trading business. And no matter what he had to do, he was going to get home. For a moment his hand went to his chest, feeling the notebook securely fastened under his shirt. His mouth twisted in determination. The notebook was all he needed.

Without a backward glance Oliver left the cave, melting silently into the jungle. He knew exactly where he needed to go. Angling in the direction of the beach, he was careful not to make any unnecessary noise. If the sailors were looking for water, it wouldn't be long before they found the small freshwater stream that cut across the sand and flowed into the bay. Oliver knew what they would do next; he had done it himself the day he had first dragged himself onto Lian Yu, half dead from hunger and thirst. And so he gripped his bow tightly in his hand and sped through the trees, mind focused and ready.

When he neared the freshwater pool that lay half a mile from the beach Oliver slowed, ears straining for the slightest sound. He secured his bow on his back and, barely breaking stride, leaped onto a fallen tree trunk. From there he vaulted towards a nearby tree and was hidden amongst its branches in seconds, his breath barely strained. The forest clearing lay open beneath him, its broad pool sparkling in the midday sunshine, the surrounding trees casting deep shadows across the ground. There was no one in sight, and for a moment Oliver thought he had been mistaken. But then the trees parted and a giant stepped into the clearing.

He was big. Far bigger than any man Oliver had ever seen in the safe, secure world of Port Starling. His arms alone were larger than some people's torsos, and his chest was broader than some of the nearby tree trunks. A long, loose waistcoat fell from his shoulders, hanging down over light canvas trousers, and as he strode into the sunlight Oliver realised that the dark skin of his chest and arms was patterned with intricate tattoos. A large cutlass swung from his left hip, balanced by a dagger on his other side. As his eyes fell on the pool of sparkling water he smiled and the sunlight glinted off a single gold tooth.

Before he had left Port Starling Oliver had never so much as seen a pirate, but his last night aboard the Queen's Gambit had changed all of that. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to sit still, fighting with the urge to launch himself into the clearing and exact retribution for his year of hell. He watched the man gesture and saw the other occupants of the ship's boat move in response. The captain, then. The crewmen spread out around the clearing, filling their water pouches eagerly from the deep pool. They chatted quietly among themselves, too low for Oliver to hear, but every so often someone would laugh, loud and cheerfully. They seemed relaxed and obviously had no idea they were being watched, which suited Oliver perfectly.

He shifted his position in the tree, trying to figure out his next move. Then he heard it. A woman's voice, young but muted, talking rapidly in a low whisper. His eyes scanned the group, falling almost instantly on a scrap of blond hair, its owner partly hidden by the captain's bulk. Even as he watched she stepped out from behind the large man, her face animated as she spoke in hushed tones. She was gesturing at something in her hand, a worn-looking piece of parchment, and the captain seemed to be listening attentively, looking down at her with a patient expression on his face. Oliver watched in fascination, his eyes fastened on the dainty blond woman standing confidently in the midst of the pirate crew.

The first thing that struck him was her beauty. Her long blond hair framed a pale, delicate face and she was wearing a dress, of sorts. A red corset top fit snugly against her small frame, cinched at her waist with a dark belt, while a tan skirt fell jaggedly to her mid-thigh. The hem looked like it had been torn off in haste, and her modesty was saved only by a pair of cotton leggings. Oliver swallowed. He had never seen a woman dressed like that in his life. He quickly pushed that thought aside, along with any other awareness of her appearance. She was a pirate, nothing more.

He watched them tensely, fingers stroking his bow, waiting for an opportunity. He didn't have to wait long. At a word from the captain the crew stirred, dispersing into the trees in all directions. After a few moments, only the captain and the woman remained. He bent low, murmuring something to her, and Oliver's eyes narrowed as she grasped his waistcoat, rising up on tiptoe to kiss him lightly on the cheek. The big man smiled, touched her arm gently, and then he too disappeared into the trees. Oliver forced himself to stay still, watching as the woman stepped towards the pool. She glanced around briefly, apparently unafraid, and then sat down on the water's edge, dangling her feet in the water. Setting the map to one side, she pulled a notebook from a pocket in her skirt and began studying it intently.

Seeing his chance, Oliver slipped down the tree trunk and circled around the clearing to place himself behind her. His year in the jungle served him well and he knew he didn't make a sound. He took a shallow breath, squared his shoulders, and pulled an arrow from his quiver. Nocking his bow he emerged from the tree line, the arrow pointed squarely at her back, and then he cleared his throat. He was mildly satisfied to see her jump.

"Stand up, slowly," Oliver said. He was surprised to find his voice was rough from weeks of disuse.

The woman carefully placed her notebook to one side and did as he asked, turning to face him. Their eyes met, hers huge and bright blue, and Oliver realised she was even more beautiful up close than she had been from across the clearing. She cocked her to head to one side and looked him up and down, and Oliver was suddenly conscious of his appearance, dressed as he was in the remains of the clothes in which he had been shipwrecked. They had once made up a fine suit, sewn especially for him by his family's personal tailor, but now they hung from his body in rags.

"Hello," the woman said easily, apparently unafraid. "I'm Felicity Smoak."

Years spent moving in the higher echelons of Port Starling society forced Oliver's manners to kick in.

"I'm Oliver Queen," he heard himself reply.

She looked at him expectantly, and Oliver cleared his throat again, realising he had already lost control of the encounter.

"You are going to take me to your ship," he said gruffly, trying to sound commanding.

"Alright… and then what? I mean, I'm assuming you have a plan of some kind?"

Oliver realised she looked mildly amused.

"Then… I'm going to take your ship to get home."

"You are…" She hesitated slightly, her brow furrowing. "All by yourself? Do you know anything about boats?"

"I do actually… I have a crew. My men. Twenty of them, waiting in the jungle. We were shipwrecked here a few days ago. So, we're going to take your ship."

Felicity raised her eyebrows.

"Really?" She gestured towards his clothes. "Because you look like you've been here for a while."

Oliver thought quickly. "This is how we dress where I'm from."

It sounded ridiculous even as he said it and Felicity cocked her head to one side, a knowing smile curving her lips. To his surprise, Oliver felt himself smiling in response. It struck him that he couldn't remember the last time he had smiled at anyone, or anything.

But the smile fell from his face when he heard a small sound behind him and felt the sudden cold press of a knife across his throat.

"Lower you bow, Mr Queen," a deep voice murmured in his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver's heart sank. He considered struggling with his assailant, his muscles tensing automatically, and felt the knife press closer to his throat.

"I wouldn't advise that," the other man said.

With a sigh, Oliver released the tension on his bow string and grudgingly lowered the weapon.

"Put it on the ground."

His jaw clenching, Oliver did as he was told. He looked up to meet Felicity's gaze and noticed the grim set of her mouth as she watched him. To his surprise, he thought he detected a faint hint of concern in her eyes. Odd as that was, it didn't bode well for his prospects.

"He says he wants to get off the island," Felicity announced calmly, looking past Oliver to the man behind.

"I heard that."

The knife was abruptly removed and the captain stepped into Oliver's field of view. He was not surprised to see who it was. Up close, the man seemed even bigger, and Oliver had to tilt his head upwards to look him in the eye. He swallowed, forcing himself not to back down from the captain's imposing size. The other man held his gaze, face unreadable as he studied Oliver. Then he gave an abrupt, short laugh and his fist shot out, catching him squarely on the jaw. It felt like the captain's entire weight was behind the punch and Oliver stumbled, falling back onto the soft grass, holding his face as he struggled to retain consciousness.

"That's for threatening Felicity," the captain said. His tone held just enough menace for Oliver to realise he had probably gotten off lightly.

"Dig," he heard the woman say, and when the captain turned to look at her he realised it was a name. "We should take him with us."

Oliver suppressed a gasp of surprise, his eyes on Felicity. Speechless, he watched her reason with the captain on his behalf. Ignoring him completely, she focused on the captain, speaking rapidly and punctuating her points with short gestures.

"We've lost a few hands already and we're running light. I already showed you my calculations, so you know that the optimum crew size, for efficient attack, defense, and…"

"I remember." The fondness in the captain's voice was at odds with the narrow glance he threw in Oliver's direction.

"Then you know that if we have to run with a light crew that could cost us up to three days, which would reduce our supplies and cost us more to stock up in the next port. Plus..."

She will still talking when the captain folded his arms and looked at Oliver speculatively. "We can't trust him though."

To Oliver's surprise Felicity smiled, her mouth breaking open in a wide grin. "He wouldn't be the first suspect hand we've had scrubbing our decks. And we do need men."

The captain gave that small, short laugh again, but this time his eyes sparkled with good humour. "Alright," he said slowly, "we'll take him. But only because you're making sense."

She grinned at him triumphantly. "Don't I always?"

A few moments later Oliver was trudging through the jungle towards the beach, the captain and Felicity following closely behind. They hadn't bothered to tie his hands and he realised they did not expect him to run. Felicity was carrying his bow, quiver, and his small collection of daggers, and Oliver had not forgotten the giant cutlass that hung at the captain's side. Besides, for now at least, he had no reason to flee. All that mattered was that they were going to take him aboard their ship and he was finally going to escape this godforsaken island. Whatever else happened he would deal with later.

Throughout their short walk to the beach Felicity kept up an animated conversation with the captain, or Dig, as she seemed to call him. Oliver was beginning to realise she did everything animatedly. Her voice rang out through the trees, silent only for the few short seconds it took for her to breathe. After his months of solitude, it was both refreshing and a little terrifying.

"After we stock up here," she was saying, "I think we should cut southwest towards Malaysia. At this time of year, there's literally hundreds of vessels crossing the South China Sea, over and back from the mainland. I've already mapped out the trade routes and worked out the perfect position for us, given the prevailing winds and the navy patrols, and…"

During all of this the captain listened patiently, only occasionally interjecting to ask a question, or to point out a flaw in Felicity's reasoning. Oliver kept his mouth shut, the talk of piracy disgusting him, but listened carefully for any information that could help him later, when he needed to escape. He wondered if they knew the men who had attacked his father's boat, if they were allies or even friends. His fists tightened automatically at his sides and he quickly relaxed them, hoping the captain hadn't noticed.

By the time they got to the beach, the other crewmen were already waiting and the ship's boat was already packed full of fruit and other supplies. A few seamen directed curious stares at Oliver, but most simply ignored him. Oliver got the distinct impression that half-dressed island castaways weren't particularly noteworthy for this crew. Still, he kept his head down and followed the captain's commands, climbing into the boat with the others and taking up a place at an oar. Part of him wanted to shout at the man, to tell him that he was Oliver Queen of Port Starling and not just one of his lowlife, thieving crew. But it was only a very small part, one that was shrinking even further with every day spent away from home. On another day that would have worried him, making him wonder how much of himself he was sacrificing in order to simply survive, but then the boat was pushed off and the waves lapped around it greedily, pulling it out to sea.

Oliver left the island.

He rowed with the others, doing his best to match their movements, but his thoughts and his eyes were trained on Lian Yu. The sun was beginning to set behind the island, illuminating its profile in deep red light, and with each stroke the boat moved further out into the ocean and the island grew a little smaller. He found that he could not look away, some part of him still unable to believe that he was finally leaving it behind. His eyes roamed over the mountains, the treeline, the cliffs, and memories assailed him. Until today, none of them had been good.

His skin prickled, feeling someone's attention on him, and his gaze dropped automatically to Felicity. She was seated in the stern of the boat, watching him intently. Oliver noticed that his bow lay across her lap, her fingertips unconsciously picking at the rough wood. She must have recognised some of the emotion in his face because she gave him a small, reassuring smile, her eyes radiating understanding. Oliver swallowed and looked away, refusing to return her smile. Instead, he looked resolutely past her, towards the rapidly dwindling silhouette of Lian Yu.


	3. Chapter 3

Felicity was on deck again. She stood on the quarter deck, above the captain's quarters, leaning over the rail and staring into the water. Her hair hung loose, blowing in the wind, and every so often the breeze caught an errant lock and swept it across her face. Each time that happened she smiled softly, turning her face into the breeze and tilting her head until the wind caught her hair and fanned it out behind her once more. Oliver watched her surreptitiously, sensing her enjoyment, unable to keep from comparing her to the women of Port Starling. He thought of his fiancée, Laurel, and her immaculately styled ringlets, and imagined her horror at being seen in public with her hair loose, teased and tangled by the wind.

"You stare at her that way, captain will notice."

Oliver's head jerked around to meet the gaze of the small, older-looking deckhand scrubbing the deck next to him. The man grinned, his small blue eyes twinkling.

"It's not like that," Oliver responded in annoyance.

"If you say," the man ducked his head, his thick accent twisting his words. "Even still, have care. Captain, he is fair man, but…" He raised his eyebrows, jerking his head in Felicity's direction and flashed that knowing grin again. "Have care," he said with a slight shrug.

Oliver sighed, returning to the portion of the deck he was ineffectually scouring and not bothering to correct the man. What did it matter to him what some deckhand thought? Still, he was careful not to look up again.

It had been three days, and during that time Oliver had eaten, slept, but mostly worked with the crew. And, for him apparently, working meant scrubbing. He had spent almost every waking moment scouring or swabbing different parts of the ship, and still hadn't worked his way from one end to the other. His knees and back ached from kneeling, while his hands, already toughened from his year on the island, were red raw. It irked him that, despite his expensive education and elevated background, the first mate didn't seem to think Oliver capable of anything beyond monotonous, mindless scrubbing. Well, that was going to change. He remembered something his father had once told him and glanced sidelong at the other deckhand. It never hurt to have allies. He sat back on his heels and turned towards the other man, proffering his hand.

"Oliver Queen."

The older man raised his eyebrow quizzically, not moving from his position, and then quickly shot out his own hands to grasp Oliver's.

"Anatoly Knyazev." He turned back to his work instantly, but not before throwing a furtive glance over his shoulder.

"Nice to meet you, Anatoly," Oliver responded, hoping to draw the man into conversation. Instead Anatoly huffed, shaking his head.

"Scrub," he said curtly.

With a groan, Oliver returned to scrubbing, hoping he had at least begun some form of rapport with the other man.

* * *

Later that night Oliver strode confidently towards the captain's cabin, ignoring the stares of the crewmen he passed. To his surprise, no one moved to stop him and he couldn't help wondering whether that was a good or a bad sign. He stopped before the captain's door, steeling himself, and self-consciously straightened his ragged clothing. Almost instantly he felt embarrassed at his behaviour. He was Oliver Queen, of the Queen Trading Company, and these were mere pirates. He had no reason to feel ashamed. Still, his hand shook as he rapped at the door, and his breath caught while he waited for a reply.

"Come in."

The captain's voice reverberated through the wooden door and Oliver hesitated, trying to decide if he sounded relaxed or annoyed. He frowned at his fearfulness and lifted the latch, his feigned confidence causing him to open the door more forcefully than he intended. He looked up to meet the surprised eyes of the captain, frozen midstride between a large wooden desk and the door. Behind him, Oliver saw Felicity's small figure bent over a pile of papers strewn across the table. She was wearing a thin set of spectacles, magnifying the already wide eyes she fixed on Oliver.

"You're not bringing our dinner?"

Now the captain definitely sounded annoyed. He stayed where he was, halfway between Oliver at the door and Felicity at the desk, planting his feet and squaring his shoulders. Without waiting for an invitation, Oliver crossed into the cabin, swinging the door closed behind him.

"No. I've come to offer you a proposition."

The captain raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling sarcastically. He looked over his shoulder towards Felicity, an unspoken communication passing between them.

"Very well. Let's hear it."

The captain moved back towards the desk and leaned against it, folding his arms. Felicity lowered the quill she held and leaned back in her chair, eyeing him speculatively. With a second glance at her, the captain cocked his head, indicating for Oliver to continue.

"Dig." There was a sudden shift in atmosphere. "Captain Dig?" he hazarded.

"Captain Diggle," was the curt, forbidding reply.

"Of course, Captain Diggle." Oliver nodded in acknowledgement, but thought better of offering his hand. "My name is Oliver Queen, of the Queen Trading Company."

Oliver paused, waiting for a reaction, and was surprised to find there was none. "Maybe you haven't heard of my family and our business but," he looked uncertainly between the two occupants of the cabin, "given your line of work, I find that surprising."

"No, we've heard of the Queens," the captain said dryly. He tilted his head and spat into the corner of the room. "What of it?"

"Well," Oliver continued, his brow furrowing, "then you know that my family is very wealthy. If you return me to them, they will give you a handsome reward."

"Hmmm," the captain glanced towards Felicity again. "And by return you mean, take you back to Port Starling?"

"Yes, of course." Oliver's frowned deepened. He failed to see the apparent difficulty.

"So you expect us to simply sail right into the Port, collect our reward, and then turn around and leave?" The captain's eyes narrowed. "I think you're overestimating your family's sway. The local governor may not be that kindly disposed towards us, even if we do do him the favour of returning Port Starling's favourite son."

Oliver heard a small, almost reluctant, laugh and glanced towards Felicity, his eyes narrowing. For some strange reason he had expected her support. She caught his eye and reddened slightly.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," she said gently, "but we really can't cross half the ocean to bring you home right now. We have a number of ventures planned, routes mapped out, it's not that…" She took a breath, giving her head a slight shake. "Maybe in a year…?" She looked towards the captain, but jumped when Oliver's sudden shout echoed through the cabin.

"No! A year is too long!"

Captain Diggle took a step towards him, arms unfolding as his chest expanded. Oliver refused to step back.

"You don't understand!" he cried. He looked desperately between them and saw Felicity stand up from behind the desk.

"Then explain it to us?" she asked softly.

Oliver swallowed, anger dissipating as he fought a wave of helplessness.

"I need to find my sister."


End file.
